wow that was quick ok kids the messageboard is already in the process of creation so i mean it i want three trustworthy net addicts email me for moderation posts and for me to tell you some rules and what is and is not acceptable.
also my camera pretty much doesn't work anymore so if you want to buy me a new one go ahead.
ps the egg on the burger was amazing and added to the flavor and they cook it separately then put it on top DUH.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Friday, July 07, 2006
i also cannot stop thinking about the hamburger i ate yesterday and fil had one too. it was at this nice diner i will not mention but noel you can email me and i will tell you so you can stop going all the way to dangerous dan's anyway, it was an ultimate burger with bacon and cheese and a fucking egg on it and the type of cheese was that kind that tastes like the best fake chemical cheese in the world where you are full-on eating some fucking fake cheese and the guy who serves you has 1.5 teeth in his mouth. their onion rings are pretty wicked cos they're see-thru greased up fuck i regret eating all that shit but still it was probably the best 15 minutes of eating in my life.
above foto is not the burger i ate but i sort of wish it was based on comedy alone.
RAYMI'S SECRET OF THE WEEK:
this is how you get on a good post-writing roll.
imagine someone reading your blog is super duper cool and judgemental and every word you type has to one-up them and they make you feel extremely insecure and obese and they are that type of pretentious that you cannot stand nor avoid, pretend the editor of vogue reads you, ooh i just thought of that one. now i'm nervous.
i've decided there should be a raymi forum or messageboard so you guys can zing each other over there and post pictures of girls crapping on themselves and have avaters and fight over how racist and drunk i am, i'll keep comments here of course but you know what i mean? there are a hundred thousand directionless messageboards out there and i figured a raymi one would make sense, so i need someone to help me with this, if you know anything at all about that sort of thing and to make it pretty looking please get at me also i will require a few moderators ie people who have close to zero life outside of the internet and are interested and desire the messageboard power and will take it seriously. i of course would also moderate/admin. shit but i can't be expected to babysit all the time so yeh, email me email@example.com and then if you know about peeps advertising on it so i can be rich that would be sweet. bye.
so sarah asked me yesterday when i was going to do my stand-up thing and i was like well i told everyone i was gonna do it then i broke down and released my precious material and ZERO people laughed but i guess i'll give it another go so i said ok here i go and i opened my mouth and she busted into laughter straight away and i'm like sarah i haven't even made a joke yet and she's all well i think it's funny.
noel liked my take on spiders at least. i will also have one minute devoted to THE SHIT I SAID FIRST where i say a bunch of stuff and then i say NOW THAT CONCLUDES THE SHIT I SAID FIRST PORTION OF MY SET.
then i talk about powerpoint. then i'll do my i don't give a care spiel and have a slideshow of pictures of people and talk about how much they don't give a care then i'll discuss how witty i think i am and the specific origins of my wit until someone heckles me and i go into a shame spiral in a bathroom stall untill someone brings me some blow.
BONER OF THE WEEK GOES TO ZOOEY DESCHANEL
everytime i am watching a movie with fil and she's innit i turn to him and witchily accuse him of having a fucking crush on her a hundred times and by the end i am so psychotically irrationally jealous i want to jump through a wall of fire i mean a fucking brick wall, AND it's on fire so i am ensured to get all fucked up from the bricks and then set on fire for additional pain.
anyway this bitch is scary and i like that, you can't tell if she has down-syndrome or like a higher essence of beauty that the rest of us lumpheads haven't discovered yet.
her voice drives me a little crazy too - it's all deepish and highish at the same time, and she seems to be really smart and if i met her i would lose the chip on my shoulder immediately. in that winter movie with will ferrel she's sitting on her windowsill in her underwear and a t-shirt after a nite of coke and her scaggy theatre friend comes over and tries to kiss her and she says PLEASE LEAVE and he does and i swear to christ my vagina opened up like one of those venus flytraps in little shop of horrors. she also seems like a big drinker and we all know my fondness of le drink and girls who swim in sauce i would totally let her punch me in the face and then stand there laughing and pointing at her like i "get it" all the while my teeth are busted.
also, i bet if she walked in a room and someone was shooting up she'd be all i don't give a care and eat some skittles and watch the tube like her grandma was on her way over.
sometimes her hair is all crazy cave lady junky-looking and i'm like ps. can i live in it? ok this is getting borderline stalky now bye.
island boy break
tell me something better to bump into whilst on shrooms, knee-deep in overpriced beers, sunshine and girls in h&m dresses, fuckin' tell me!
ping pong remix
if you value your time as much as i don't, watch this. it's that usher song you know that goes bwing bweeg bwung bweeeng and there are lazer beams and stuff except it's little boys dressed in drag. DO IT. i think white privileged kids are what 2006 is all about, they're pretty good dancers.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
holy motherfuck FINALLY i have a firewall this is something you'd think i'd have sorted out years ago, anyway thanls dinky!
more gay island fotos tomorrow someone has to get their wine on.
if you don't like diarrhea don't get a caramel iced espresso large.
ever get that feeling that you just saw someone you knew way back when and then you sort of convince yourself that YES that TOTALLY was herb from grade 3? i think that shit happens cos your subconscious is lead by your pathetic heart and desire to connect with someone, something, anything familiar i dunno, the need to exist in a constant mystical state of what things were like when you could barely tie laces.
holy gay watch out for it!
>I finally got your book today.
>The honesty of it just kills me. That is all I can really say. I have many people in my life suffering from depression; my dad suffered from alcoholism as well as depression, and it gives a lot of honest insight into what depression really is, and what it does to people. Fuck self-help books, your book doesn't tell you how to manage things, it tells you what everything is like, mindset you have, everything. It is a vulnerable book in the way it is so honest. I know that sounds really gay but that is the feeling I get from a lot of it. Defeated and vulnerable, yet at the same time the reality of everything is just thrown at you without any fancy adjectives or what have you. It isn't 'let's dress up a mental condition and tragic life events and form them into a romantic story that kids everywhere will aspire to emulate'.
>I don't have to tell you what your book is, as so many bloggers have already reviewed it. But I am really greatful for it, and am giving it to my boyfriend to read because he is depressed and won't admit it. I think maybe once he reads it he will be able to see a lot of himself and realize that maybe he needs to come to terms with some things and possibly get help if he wants to.
HOW TO DEAL WITH YOUR DEPRESSION
1. do not make a big deal about it, go about your days without talking about it thinking about it anything about it and then when that tidal wave of sadness hits you, you are like boy i'm sad and then you go that's right i'm depressed i totally forgot! if you act like a functioning depressive things are way easier and less people will avoid you which segues into
2. get a sense of humor, don't be a debbie downer and see the fucking negative in everything in an unfunny way for the love of fuck do you want to be alone for the REST OF YOUR LIFE!?! holy shit if you're going to be sad at least cheer somebody else up, that's why comedians are comedians, they're so fucking blue that making other people laugh is a total necessity why do you think i post ten trillion times a second and come up with all this witty banter? yeah i'm real funny and i'm really depressed DUH! did you think it was because i really liked you guys? ha ha WRONG!
3. ok i do sort of like you guys but you see what i did there? i made a JOKE, fucking try it sometime, guys le douche.
4. spend money on clothes that make you look awesome and then you will feel awesome but don't over do it with the accessories please, you are NOT a fucking christmas tree.
5. hang out with someone less cool than you and let them try and impress you all day long and if you are feeling extra generous let them buy you something and make out with them if you feel it necessary for them to be available for your next tidal sadness wave.
6. do NOT cut your hair if you are a girl, give your bangs a little chop if absolutely necessary but do not go hmm i think i would feel ten times better if i looked like HILARY SWANK IN BOYS DON'T CRY you will fucking regret it and every other person you pass on the street will think inside their heads WOW THAT CHICK IS MENTALLY UNSTABLE and then when your sadness week resides you will be totally revolted by the sight of your head and then you'll do a bunch of drugs to forget what you look like and two years later you are still bingeing about to bottom-out and your hair is just about shoulder-length and you are a strung-out pile of garbage true story, buy my book.
7. if you feel the need to discuss your dark past, make little jokes about it so the listener is more comfortable and then you can talk about all the nasty shit you want virtually guilt-free. for example: the chicken crossed the road to get to the other side and smashed hot pizza in my face from a violent coke rage and that chicken was actually my ex weed dealer boyfriend want to rent wedding crashers?
8. develop a drinking habit? they say that alcohol is actually a depressant though i find that the people who say that are my mom and psychologists who aren't allowed to drink cos of their family obligations and bothersome wives so like they totally want to get plastered but they have respectable jobs i don't know THEY'RE not depressed so FUCK THEM i mean if you can be a functioning alcoholic fine by you don't do it cos i say so these are just friendly suggestions. fine, PLAY FRISBEE.
9. i am getting bored of this list, smoke weed if you don't have delusional anxiety attacks like me and totally write off the next 6 hours of your life watching whatever dvd box-set your retarded roommate rented for the week is this rocket science people?!!
10. engage in frequent, and empty sex.
i'm paying $3 an hour to blog today at a cafe so you fuckers better appreciate it also get ready for some CHANGES! i seem to have chosen the computer with the blurriest monitor and zero track lighting and i already have to dump there are people all around me and i can't fart cos i'm wearing headphones and i know it will end up being like bongos falling down the stairs and bouncing off spandex and fart sounding implements.
ps i am already the most annoying person here cos i keep sniffling and swallowing my phlegm.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
i watched a sarah harmer music video today and i closed my eyes to see if i could enjoy it like that for the first time and not the depressing early afternoon much more music way, where it's like hello here is the crap we don't want real people with jobs to be subjected to. i felt like my ovaries were aging and covered in dust and i was wearing a white nightie and winding up a fucking mobile over a cradle and i had massive crow's feet sorry i just can't get into that lilith dyke shit. i mean, in a field with whiskey raining from the sky setting off fireworks, yes i can dig it, on the couch with no internet = I AM SO FUCKING DEPRESSED FOR MYSELF RIGHT NOW.
i just wrote a whole bunch of other shit that i deleted cos fil gave me a talking-to saying i was dissing a bunch of people indirectly but to me i was just being funny, i guess musicians are sensitive and so is fil cos he wants to have sex with all of them.
stay tuned for more arts&crafts future bashing.
not only do i feel like i don't exist now that i can't readily use the internet the second my eyes open, i feel like i don't have a reason to exist, i feel purposeless and as i was crying to celine dion on oprah today i realised hey why not write some shit down pen paper styles?
so i looked all over for a notebook that didn't have gay scribbles, ip addresses, and my made-up juvenile signature on every fucking page after a quadruple espresso but then i got into cleaning mode and everything in the kitchen is now rearranged/spotless and every clever observation i had is now gone. i was so internet jonesing i thought i might even write a song and it was going to begin like this;
I CAN'T WRITE A SONG....
it was going to be very indie but i couldn't find my notebook so whatever.
i saw the devil wears prada with lise and it was BAD. i read the book and thoroughly enjoyed it so i was expecting great stuff. plus there was a screaming baby in the theatre that needed to be drowned. lise said the movie made her feel violently angry, me, just depressed. i was hoping for a great distraction. also they say in the movie that size 6 is the new 14.
AND anne hathawhateverway does a lot of unnecessary smiling innit and you are like why is she smiling at the sky everyone is mean to her, her relationship is ending everyone calls her fat WHY THE FUCK IS SHE SMILING THAT DOPEY FUCKING SMILE!?
i've been having a bad week.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
i get a kick out of the shopper's drug mart "cosmotologists" what with their tiny little cash-out booth, and they get really annoyed when they actually have to cash you out like hello that skanky fat ass can choose her britney spears perfume ON HER OWN! i'm sorry to inconvenience you out of NOT doing your job so fucking sorry let me make it up to you how about come over to my place with yer wigger poser boyfriend who hangs around your little jewellery section and he can feel you up whilst i get completely wasted and then you can complain about having to ring through some baby oil and gillette razers OMG! ps is the make-up section cashier kiosk like optional? cos if it is such a big fucking deal to let people pay for their items there opposed to the grocery store style cash lines why not perhaps GETTING THE FUCK RID OF IT YOU PIECES OF SHIT FAILED MAKE-UP ARTISTS!!!!!!!!!1?
That is the sound I always make when I have an opinion that is not going to be shared by anyone else in the room but I’m determined to share it anyway because I have some complex where I need to hear the sound of my own voice or somehow satisfy a desire to be right. Not to say that I’m always right, actually I’m very often wrong. You would think I’d learn to keep my big fat trap shut but I don’t. I annoy myself, and probably everyone I know. Maybe I’m that kid that everyone keeps around because they feel sorry for him. Or more likely because I make them feel better about themselves because they can all say “at least I’m not as annoying as Jarom” and other slanderous shit like that. But screw them, if I had it my way I’d reinstitute public floggings, and every Saturday I’d choose a child at random to be tossed into the sun. All to satisfy my demands for justice… have you ever read A Modest Proposal? It’s jacked but a must read.
Anyway, I did have something to say… You’re a mess! A beautiful tragic mess. I’ve been reading your blog for a bit now and it’s like being caught in the black whole of daytime television, the Maury Povich show. No matter how much I want to change the channel I can’t, I must know who the daddy is? What did the lie detector reveal? What is the terrible secret she’s been keeping? It’s been like discovering an awesome band that you think nobody knows about only to find out you’ve jumped on a very large band wagon that has been rolling down your street for three years two months six hours and thirty-seven seconds.
As someone with OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) reading about your life drives my fckn batty, I can’t stand it, its disorganized chaos yet I’m ensnared and captivated by it. You live like I only imagine, and when I do it’s a nightmare that I wake from in a cold sweet. But it leaves me more alive and invigorated.
I keep lists, not your ordinary lists like one of all the amazing things I want to see before I die but retarded list of things I want to say at the most perfect moment, a moment that will come along only once and if I don’t use my quote that perfect moment my chance to use it is likely gone forever. I have a new list; it’s a list of all the brilliant things Raymi has written. I’ve had to rewrite it a couple times because my printing wasn’t neat enough… but it’s a good list.
smartest shit i have read lately:
a nugget for you
the problem with helping people other than it being a total waste of time is that it only serves to perpetuate their helplessness and validate it for them. people that need help are lazy and the only reason they don't get it is because they don't pay attention when someones there to show them what the fuck they need to do. they are somehow under the assumption that you are there to do it for them and that its gonna do them any good to have the right answers if they don't know how they got there. it is pretty much decided i am not interested in tutoring because smart kids don't need help.
Monday, July 03, 2006
last nite i smashed what is most likely a family-heirloom hurricane lantern, just the glass part though and spilled red wine every fucking place i stood/sat and all over the boat and today four separate people commented on my drinking ok fine i GET IT. yes there's nothing sexy about being a drunken fat pig but when the guys do it it's ok but when me and my big mouth do it everyone wants an intervention fuck off.
i am sick as a dog and my arms fucking kill from tubing, i cannot lift my arms to put a stupid gay hair elastic in my bird's nest hair and i have a massive mosquito bite on the bridge of my nose what looks like a volcano about to erupt, i have wicked funny gossip to share but i can't say it cos too many people read my blog, too bad, i can't even mask it oh well, maybe i should make a turn for the better and not talk shit about people anymore, i know, booooring.
fil wanted to mention on his blog how hilarious he found an advertisement to be about toronto's new trash megabins but the ad was on the side of the regular trash bins, ya fil hahahahahalarious also he got me a vodka tonic from the bar at the horseshoe and me being drinklor was all I CAN'T TASTE THE BOOZE YOU GAVE ME TONIC BLEEEEARGH! and he's all NO NONONO IT'S VODKA WITH TONIC AND GIN! both vodka AND gin?! so nice!
then me and kane spent a solid five minutes praising the simplicity of mustard and ketchup on a hotdog versus ten hundred condiments, it was a very passionate discussion i will tell you that.
ps toronto teens i wrote a song called STOP STABBING EACH OTHER! it's gonna be a big hit.
what else can i tell you?
i have this wicked clip of a drunken guy who ruled at edgefest who had the best moustache and hockey jersey and wal-mart runners and he was drunk swaying by himself, his hair was pretty good too it was like hey fubar, FUCK YOU I'M THE REAL DEAL!
mad props to joel for being the opposite of homo and getting us passes and letting me feel up raine and then smoking everyone's pot and then not stop talking i don't know what?
You know that feeling of having something itchy rub against your bare bum-whether it be
synthetic negligee or a woolly blanket? I hate that feeling, especially when you scratch your cheeks profusely
and the irritation still doesn't cease, as if the itchiness has instilled on your fanny
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm a fan of yours. I am a new one, however.
I don't claim to have been reading your entries before they existed, or read every single
one while memorizing random lines from 'marketable depression' on the side.. in fact, I don't claim to anything except finding you interesting. On the other hand, I have now added you to the list of my heroes.
Here is the list:
Now, I am accepting the fact that you don't rhyme with the other two, but I have always
thought that my third would somehow rhyme too..by fate, or something... if only your parents had named you Hork or Mork.
I haven't read enough of your entries to figure out whether you like rap or not.
If not, I suggest you check out the album Sage Francis-A healthy distrust. It may change
your mind. And if you already like rap, I guess this paragraph is kind of pointless.
I don't want to tell you that I am exactly like you, because I'm sure you have heard that enough
times. I think if I actually thought that, I would just be trying to match my a, b and c
traits to your d, e and f traits, when probably everyone has an a, b and c trait that matches
to your d, e and f trait.
Right now, I'm watching the movie Proof. Have you seen it? It's about this family who has this
insnae genius mathematician father who dies( ie. sexy anthony hopkins), and his daughter Catherine who may have inherited his gift.
Gwyneth Paltrov is lovely-she is a wonderful crazy bitch in it. Jake
Gyllenhall isn't bad either. I probably wouldn't recommend it though.
I can already tell it's going to have a terrible ending.
But, I kind of like this line so far:
Claire(some random blonde actress): Did you use that conditioner I brought you?
Catherine(gwyneth): No. Shit. I forgot.
Claire: Well, it's my favorite. You'll love it, Katie. I want you to try it.
Catherine: I'll try it next time.
Claire: You'll like it. It has jojoba.
Catherine: What is jojoba?
Claire: It's something they put in for healthy hair.
Catherine: Hair is dead.
Catherine: It's... It's dead tissue. You can't make it healthy.
Claire: Whatever. It's good for your hair.
Catherine: Like what? A chemical?
Claire: No. It's organic.
Catherine: It can be organic and still be a chemical.
Claire: I don't know what it is.
Catherine: Heard of organic chemistry?
I'll tell you later whether I was right about the ending or not.
This letter has already gone on too long.
P.S. I am an awesome drunk